


11.23

by babybrotherdean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Cuddling & Snuggling, Episode: s11e23 Alpha and Omega, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Season/Series 11, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6973489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/pseuds/babybrotherdean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And what’s he supposed to do by himself, anyways? Did Dean think this through at all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	11.23

**Author's Note:**

> An anon asked for a happier-ending coda, so- this happened? 
> 
> Spoilers for 11.23.

Sam feels a thousand years old as he walks down the bunker’s stairs. Castiel had left with a hug and a promise to check in soon once he figured out what was going on in Heaven, so he’s alone, now, fingers gripping the railing a little too tight. Too much of him is wondering what a single-story fall would do to solve this issue he has, what with still being alive, but he manages to force it down. Wouldn’t be any good to hurt himself like that when it would only raise questions from his friends.

Dean is gone. It doesn’t feel real; he’s usually around when his brother throws himself to the wolves for the greater good, but what else could have happened? The sun has returned, the world is saved- he must’ve blown the bomb in his chest and defeated Amara. It hurts to think about, aches soul-deep in a way with which he is intimately familiar, but it feels closer to a dream than the reality it must be, and he wonders if this is what it’s like to be in shock.

He doesn’t make it farther than the table, sitting down heavily because his legs aren’t holding up his weight anymore. He can’t come to grips with the reality that’s been presented to him, and-

And what’s he supposed to do by himself, anyways? Did Dean think this through at all?

Sam’s thoughts start to spiral like that, remembering endless Tuesdays, remembering four months of binge-drinking and demon blood. Remembers that he doesn’t know how to _be_ without Dean, not really, and he’s at a loss- stares blankly at the wall opposite him like it’s going to offer him the answer he needs, as if there’s any answer at all that doesn’t end in him joining his big brother in the afterlife.

He doesn’t know how much time passes like that. It could be minutes, hours. Days. He doesn’t care to keep track, really- doesn’t care for much of anything at the moment- but its end it marked with the scrape of metal on concrete as the door opens above him.

Sam doesn’t look up until there’s the sound of footsteps and a rush of breath and a “thank god, _Sammy_ ,” because he doesn’t know if this is real, either.

Dean certainly feels real. He feels solid, too big and too heavy to be throwing himself at Sam the way he does, but Sam isn’t complaining as he’s wrapped up tight, hauled out of his seat for a hug just as good as the one they shared in the graveyard. Sam doesn’t know what to do but hug back, to breathe in deep and be flooded with leather-sweat-sunshine- _Dean_.

“You- you’re-”

“Yeah. Yeah, Sammy, I’m- yeah.”

He doesn’t really know how they make it to Dean’s room. They’re tripping over each others’ feet, just clinging, refusing to put an inch of space between their bodies if at all preventable. Sam’s got a million questions on the tip of his tongue but Dean is _here_ , and that’s what matters. Somehow, Dean fixed it and lived and this is more than he could’ve hoped for.

The bed is soft and takes their weight gratefully, the mattress dipping under them to cradle their tired bodies. Sam doesn’t waste any time in wrapping Dean up in his arms, just short of cocooning his brother entirely with his body because it isn’t within his abilities to do so. He doesn’t know where to begin, so he just buries his nose in Dean’s hair and tries to breathe normally for a bit. It’s quiet, both of them soaking up the reality of the other’s presence, and it’s good.

“They fixed it,” Dean mumbles some time later, and Sam holds him a little tighter but stays quiet. This is his brother’s story to tell. “They- Amara, and- and Chuck, they…”

“Did she bring him there?” Sam prompts when Dean trails off. “He- he vanished, out of the bar. We didn’t know where he went.”

He feels Dean nod against his chest. “Yeah. She- uh. She knew I had the bomb. Right away. And I could’ve just- just pulled the trigger, y’know? Blown her to hell. But I…” He’s quiet for another moment, but continues after a deep breath. “I just- I talked to her, y’know? She wasn’t the one destroying the sun, and… I don’t think she really wanted to destroy everything, after all.”

There are a thousand puzzle pieces that Sam’s missing, but he doesn’t push. “So she called Chuck after you talked?”

“Yeah. They, um- they made up.” Dean laughs, then, sounds breathless and amazed. “I- I told her they were family, and that they needed to stick together, and… they made up, Sam. She undid whatever they did to him, and they fixed the sun, and- and Chuck took the souls away, and that’s it. They… they went. And she-”

Dean stops, then, and Sam’s quiet. There’s something his brother isn’t telling him, but it can wait, for just a moment, because-

“You did that.” Keeps his voice soft and rubs a hand up and down Dean’s back while his brother clings to him. Must’ve been scary playing Dr. Phil to the two most powerful beings in the universe. “You fixed it, Dean. You… hell, we thought we’d have to kill her, but- but you saved her. Her and Chuck. That was you.”

Dean starts to protest because it’s what he does. Sam’s prepared and holds him tighter, brings a hand up to push his fingers through his brother’s hair. “No, shut up. Just- just take the compliment, okay? No one else could’ve done that, Dean. No one but you.” Maybe it’s because Dean’s the only human Amara seemed to have had any interest in, but Sam knows, without a doubt, that no one could’ve pulled this off but his brother. No one could’ve seen the other option when destruction seemed like the obvious answer. “You saved everyone.”

Dean stays quiet, which is better than trying to force the praise away, and Sam presses a rough kiss to the top of his head. Above all else, Dean isn’t dead. Dean is alive in his arms and they’re _okay_ , and that’s what’s important, and that’s what he’s going to focus on.

“Um… Sam? There’s somethin’ else, too.”

Sam’s eyes have slipped shut, but he hums in acknowledgment. “Yeah? What is it?”

“Amara- she was, um. Really grateful that I helped her fix stuff with Chuck.” There’s that damn humble tone again and Sam will never get over how entirely Dean refuses to take credit for his own heroism. “And- well, there’s, uh- there’s someone you’ve gotta meet. She’s dyin’ to meet you, too.”

He does open his eyes, then, because there’s a quiet knock on their door and it creaks open and he’s holding Dean tighter and feeling something squeeze in his chest and she smiles at him as he tries to think around all the white noise in his head and-

And.

“Mom?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
